Background Bones
by wuemsel
Summary: Maybe Kirk should get a few games installed on his little armrest computer.
Well. I don't know what came over me. It just looked funny in my head. Poor Bones.

 ** _WARNINGS:_** Two or three swear words and, well, it's a bit... mean, I guess. All things considered.

 **BACKGROUND BONES**

 _by wuemsel_

It wasn't only that McCoy was dripping water all over the bridge. Or well, not all over but pretty steadily where he stood, holding onto Kirk's armrest, standing next to the Captain's chair in an ever-growing puddle of Therolian water. Which smelled strangely of raspberry jam and vanilla cookies. Or maybe that was just McCoy.

But it wasn't just that. It was also that Kirk was really busy and his best friend and CMO just wouldn't shut the holy fuck up.

For the past ten minutes Kirk had been trying to navigate them through the asteroid belt surrounding Therol, while also avoiding hitting the centre of an ion storm or the invisible line the Therolseconds had drawn on a map two hundred million years ago with a "NO ONE PASS HERE!"-sign attached to it. All this while waiting for the Therolian Embassador to call them and announce his decision regarding negotiations with the Federation. Not to mention Spock's disapproving looks, because Kirk had chosen NOT to negotiate with the Therolseconds.

What he didn't need was a breathless, endless and ultimately boring monologue about how fascinating - Yes. He'd said that. McCoy. Even Spock had looked up at that. - the Therol coastline of What's-it-pronounced-again was and how many micro-lifeforms McCoy and his team had found there and how the urine of one of them might carry a cure for Talasian Flu.

Kirk had been somewhat curious upon seeing McCoy enter the bridge soaked to the bone and dripping odd-smelling water, but they hadn't reached that part of the fascinating tale, yet. So far, all he'd gathered from what McCoy apparently perceived to be a coversation was that his CMO had fallen in love with the place, the people, the micro-life, the diseases and something called Mak'k'ba'har, which, judging from his friend's behaviour, Kirk believed to be a psychodelic drug.

Nobody else seemed to be bothered by the constant excited rambling, Kirk thought as he looked around the bridge, frowning. Sulu and Pietersson were concentrating on where they were going, obviously, the ensign who'd brought the coffee and whose name Kirk couldn't remember right now was clicking through something at his workspace - probably checking his FaceSpace - Spock was deeply absorbed by whatever he was looking at through his scanners and Uhura seemed equally busy listening to... something. Of course, Spock could tune out McCoy whenever he wanted to and Uhura might be listening to Therolian opera for all Kirk knew. He was the only one whose job on the bridge in situations like these was so ... well, VAGUE, that he had nowhere to hide.

It suddenly hit him that he could just order McCoy to shut up, get dry and get some rest. He was his superior after all.

"... and the result was that the T'ri'mbolan'g leaves turned-"

"You're dripping on my bridge," Kirk interrupted McCoy, frowning at the puddle.

"Huh? Oh. Yeah." McCoy looked down as well and almost fell flat on his face, but managed to grab Kirk's arm just in time. "Sorry 'bout that," he said, meaning the water, not the fact that he'd just bruised Kirk. "There was a wave. Long story. Turns out, the B'l'ahr microsquid I told you about come in schools big enough to create waves. They share a collective consciousness. Isn't that fascinating? I modified the tricorder, so I could talk to them and-"

"You should go get changed, before you catch your death," Kirk said, trying his best to sound like his mother, since he didn't know what McCoy's mother sounded like. "And get some sleep while you're at it. You look like shit."

"Yeah, in a second," McCoy said, his grin never faltering. "So the leaves we collected-"

"That's all very interesting, doctor," Kirk said, smiling his Shut-the-fuck-up-smile, "but in case ... no, BECAUSE you haven't noticed: I'm busy. Go to sickbay, find someone to rub you dry, and I'll meet you tomorrow for breakfast to listen to the rest of your story. Okay?"

"Yeah, sure, I'll be off in just a minute," McCoy said happily. "But let me just tell you this: the leaves we examined show high traces of K'tk'tk'ang."

He looked at Kirk expectantly, still not losing that half-crazed grin.

Kirk slowly moved his gaze to Spock, who had straightened his back and listened to the doctor's tale for the past few seconds and was now raising his brow. "Fascinating."

"I know, isn't it?" McCoy exclaimed. "It would explain why the Thelorians metabolize K'M'br'Kl'Ang like it's chicken soup!"

"I believe it would," Spock nodded after a moment's thought.

Kirk looked from one to the other, thinking he hated it when they did that. "Go change," he at last told McCoy.

"Hm?" McCoy looked back at him, wiping a trembling hand over the side of his face and through his hair, making it stick up at an odd angle. "Yes, right, in a second. D'you know what the K'Ling'T'Abar ALSO told me? I mean... when I say told..." He smiled happily.

"Hm mm," Kirk said, wondering if those were the ones that had initiated a form of telepathic bond with McCoy through their numerous tentacles touching his bare feet. He hadn't really been listening earlier.

McCoy rambled on about eating rituals and what sounded like TV habits, while Kirk was trying to communicate with Sulu and Scotty, sometimes just talking over McCoy, who didn't even notice.

"Bones," he cut in when McCoy had to take a break to draw a breath, "I'm really busy. We're ALL busy here. Go lie down and we'll talk later. Okay?"

"Yes, course. Sorry, Jim," McCoy smiled, uncharacteristically understanding, and actually let go of the chair to turn for the lift, but turned again within a second, swaying a little as he pointed a finger at Kirk. "Oh hey, just this: did I tell you about the Tr'Um'Br'ang'Lahs' mating habits? Because I swear to god, if we manage to plug into the energey they use there, Scotty's gonna open up a brothel. See, what they do is this..."

And here they went again.

Kirk cast Spock another long-suffering look, but the Vulcan ignored him and turned away from his station, apparently heading for the lift. Just when Kirk was about to ask where the hell he thought he was going, Spock made a sharp turn at the steps towards the lower part of the bridge, where McCoy was holding on to the back of Kirk's chair again, rambling about what sounded like squid porn.

Unseen by the overexcited and still dripping doctor, Kirk frowned slightly as Spock very quietly approached them. If he hadn't known better he'd have said it looked like Spock was going to...

With one swift motion, Spock grabbed McCoy's neck at what McCoy himself called the Neckpinch Point and took a step forward to catch the collapsing human in his arms.

Kirk stared at him.

Spock stood holding McCoy against him and raised his brows at Kirk questioningly. At McCoy's sudden silence, the others had all stopped what they had been doing to look at the scene with collective surprise. They didn't look as relieved as Kirk would have thought. He felt reminded of the times when Spock was giving him status reports on maintenance matters over the intercom while he was cleaning his desk and how he found the sound of the Vulcan's voice rather soothing then, even when he wasn't listening at all and couldn't have repeated a word of what Spock had said later if held at phaserpoint.

Maybe if he'd treated McCoy as background sound, too, theyd be out of this ion storm by now...

"Uhm..." Kirk said when he realized Spock was still waiting for... what, anyway? Orders? Gratitude? "Thank you... Mr Spock. Uh... he, uh, really should... rest. In his... condition."

"It seemed to be what you thought, Captain," Spock said. It looked just wrong, him holding a completely lifeless McCoy while talking quietly over his head. "Which is why I offered this solution to what you seem to have felt as a predicament. Personally, I found the doctor's narrative quite enjoyable."

"Uh... yeah. Bit distracting." Kirk smiled. "You, uh, gonna get him to sickbay?"

"If you think that is where he should be."

"Yes. Please. Make sure someone takes, uh, care of him. He shouldn't be... sleeping in wet clothes."

"He is not sleep-"

"Just get him off my bridge, please, Mr Spock," Kirk said and drew in the corners of his mouth in an impatient expression.

"Very well, sir," Spock said, swiftly put an arm under McCoy's knees to pick him up and turned for the lift.

Kirk watched him until the doors had closed, then ran a hand through his hair, letting go of a deep breath. "He's gonna be so pissed," he muttered, then frowned when he felt a stare on his back and turned to catch Uhura casting him the look he'd only ever seen her use on rude crew members who cut in the line at the fruit bar in the cafeteria.

"Anything from the embassador, yet, Lieutenant?" he asked, his voice only slightly wavering.

"No, sir."

"Well... then keep... concentrating on that." With that, he turned back again, brushed imaginary dust off his uniform and cleared his throat. "Everybody... concentrate."

A few mumbled "aye, sir"s reached him, but that was it.

'Well,' he thought, 'fuck.'

 **THE END**


End file.
